Eliminating Threats
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: No war!After Divergent. The Bureau is the reason for Jeanine's plan failing. All of Chicago wakes up the day after Dauntless initiation ends only to be informed of the death of Jeanine Matthews, the finding of a mysterious letter calling for their society to be dissolved, and unanswered questions that Tris tries to find the answers to. (No Will, Natalie, or Andrew deaths!)
1. Much Stealth, Much Secret

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. This is basically a version of no-war, after-initiation!Divergent that everyone loves oh so much. :)**

David straightens up in his chair. All the members of the Council look to him as the head, waiting for his final approval of the proposal that has so long been discussed here. The members line up and down the wooden table; scattered papers and empty mugs litter before them. They've been here for hours; some tap the floor with impatient feet and others sigh.

"Is it then in the favor of the Council to introduce a different direction for Chicago?" David asks calmly.

Amar stands in a corner with Zoe, their legs crossed, their ears attentive. Zoe pushes stray dark hair out of her face and listens closely. The choice of David to continue with a different stage for Chicago could put their experiment into jeopardy or into success.

Scientists who speculated and collected data from the cameras hidden away throughout the city brought forward alarming news to the Council a few days ago: Their efforts to produce healed genes, their life's work, was being jeopardized by an Erudite woman named Jeanine Andrews. This ignorant scientist was issuing an order to inject the cruelest faction, Dauntless, with a dangerous serum that would make them into puppets, and for her purposes, war machines, against Abnegation, the faction containing the most Divergent. The Divergent: those with healed genes.

The Bureau had their many rules concerning their experiments: don't make themselves known, don't interfere with the experiments. But their usual rescue missions of one or two members of Chicago wouldn't hold a candle to the trouble they'd have to go to to collect dozens of Divergent from Chicago and disguise and destroy so many minds to get them out safely. This led to a flurry of days, of locked doors containing the Council, of scientists straining their eyes and losing sleep keeping an eye on Jeanine's formulating war plans. Many ideas and suggestions had been tossed around the Council room, and all the members of the Council just wanted a solution.

The verdict was about to be announced.

One raises a hand, "But the factions are doing so well!"

"Leo, one clever scientist is about to wipe out an entire faction and enslave another. It is safe to say that the faction system is not working out as well as we'd hope," a pudgy, respectful woman says. She wipes at her glasses.

The others stare down this one agitator who wants to continue swimming around this ocean of chaos instead of getting on a raft.

"Remember the water sculpture in the hall. That is what we are working for, right? Steady, small progress. One step closer to cleaner genes, to the end of the long, agonizing race," the opposer says.

"Bart," David says, addressing the opposer, "we will have one-fifth of our progress wiped out if this continues. Especially since Abnegation is the faction holding the most Divergent." Something in his voice makes Bart shut his mouth. David is a leader who is charming and persuading.

David smiles and says, "Our plan is simple. Seven generations have passed, and though that is not nearly enough time for all the genes to have become cleansed, healed, not damaged, anymore, there simply isn't enough time. We can stop this mass destruction of human lives, which we are trying to save. One small sacrifice for a bigger cause.

"After all," he says cheerfully, "having so few initiates transfer to other factions each year is incredibly slow. With this new phase, stronger genes can be produced much more quickly." He looks around the table. Two are nodding off, their heads against propped up fists. "Does everyone understand?" David asks.

Everyone nods.

"All in favor say 'aye'."

The shouts of 'aye!' are unanimous.

David smiles and levels all his papers and staples the top corner of them. "Amar," he says, offering them to the man. Amar takes them and David says, "Be careful. Don't be seen."

"Yes, sir," Amar says. He jerks his head toward the door and Zoe follows him. Down the halls they go, Zoe having to walk fast to keep up with Amar, having to tiptoe to look over his shoulder at the order they're carrying out.

"I'll get the car from the garage," Zoe says, drawing her security badge from beneath her GP-betraying T-shirt.

Amar touches her shoulder as her lab coat billows behind her. "I'll get the gun and syringes."

Zoe smiles. "Using her own discoveries against her," she says, pleased to be doing _something_ to save their years of careful analyzation and planning.

Her heart thumps in guilt when she rushes past the sculpture glowing under glass windows. She ignores the constant drip of plain, ordinary water as she flies to the garage.

* * *

It's not yet winter, and yet the fall air flies with dead leaves and a bite of cold. Amar and Zoe close the windows and rush down the long, lonesome road towards Chicago. Either side is decorated with broken buildings, burnt ruins, shattered lives and long lost civilizations. Zoe shivers at the thought of ever living before the Bureau took control of the chaos reigning throughout the broken United States. How could anyone survive before the Bureau?

The Bureau have secret entrances into their fenced-in city; they proved helpful when rescuing Amar and George Wu, and in sneaking in Natalie Wright into Dauntless. The entire city is surrounded by a fence, but there are key points that are ignorantly thought of as not important by the Dauntless guards that circulate around the city. The Bureau uses this to their advantage.

Amar parks the car behind a bluff of trees and the two hurry; they've been on missions together for so long now not a word has to be spoken to the other. Zoe wordlessly lifts the fence out of place and Amar slips through. Once both are untangled from the bottom of the fence, they head on in, closing in on the Erudite sector of the city. Their disguises, typical bright and dark blue Erudite, save them questions from anyone noticing them; which no one did. They're sneaky, slipping around like shadows. Their dark coats hide their supplies and walkie talkies. Nobody suspects a couple of trekking Erudite; the lights have been on until the wee hours of the morning on the top of Erudite headquarters for some time. They must be doing important research.

Zoe kneels besides a vent outside the headquarters of Erudite. Unscrewing the cover, she tosses it aside and says, "Hope no one finds that."

"We'll be in and out before anyone can suspect a thing," Amar says cheerfully. He's always easy going about missions, despite understanding how deeply dangerous and secretive they have to remain.

Half an hour later, they drop down into an elevator through the top. Sweaty and covered in dust, Zoe pants and presses the top level button. She shows off a security key one of the GP scientists had made from copying the same technology of the Erudite.

The key works; they're taken to their destination.

They step off into gleaming white tiles and silence. Amar's hand presses against his loaded gun. He says into his walkie talkie, "She's in her office?"

"Yes; there are two scientists coming in from your left. Get the memory aerosol spray ready. Three more are with Jeanine in her office; Dauntless guards are coming up the next elevator; Jeanine's plans say it's only ten more minutes. You have that much time," Nita, a non-violent GD, says from her walkie talkie. She volunteered for this mission. Somehow she received an important job: being the voice piece of the entire Bureau.

"Copy that," Amar says. He drops his jacket corner and says, "Aerosol ready, Zoe."

"Got the letter?" Zoe asks.

"Yes," Amar says.

Zoe nods. "And I won't forget the alarm."

The two dash out as two pairs of feet plod down the left hallway. Zoe runs past them and latches her hands down on the lever on the wall; the two scientists exclaim and Amar jumps in front of them; Zoe yanks down the red lever, and a pounding alarms scream throughout the entire building.

"Fire! There's a fire!" Amar shouts as he sprays the can at the scientists.

They inhale the serum and their eyes turn blank, then scared; then one says, "Of course! We must exit the building!"

Amar nods hurriedly, pushing them towards the elevators, "Hurry! Tell others!" They hurry, their thoughts only consumed with getting out of this building.

Safely vacated, Amar looks around the empty hallway and nods to Zoe. She dashes behind him and they punch in the security code that overrides Jeanine's little mind puzzle. Maximum security indeed. Learning all the cheats from the unknowing scientist beforehand helps speed up a mission such as this.

Amar and Zoe enter without an error.

The alarm blares louder in here. Amar rushes in and Zoe peeks from behind a corner: Jeanine is surrounded by panels of blue. Some she is tapping and others she's ex-ing out. She tsks, "A fire alarm, really? So close to showtime as well. Impeccable timing." She turns off her computer and turns to face a white room with three bodies lying on the ground, two with broken noses, all with a dissipating mist disappearing from their faces.

Amar had already shot all the security cameras. Blood trickles from his nose; who knew an Erudite possessed willpower to get messy?

Zoe points a gun at Jeanine's head.

"What is this?" Jeanine says crisply, not reacting in any way as to betray fright, anger, or shock. "Who are you?"

"Pull up your program, Ms. Matthews," Amar says. pointing his gun at her head as well.

"Why on earth for? You are going to kill me whether or not I show you in the information, are you not? I'd rather keep information from falling into the wrong hands rather than use it for ill-wrought uses," Jeanine says.

"And your uses aren't, as you say, 'ill-wrought?'" Zoe asks through gritted teeth.

"My uses for my research are simply to protect this city," Jeanine says. She stares down the barrel of the gun, and she gulps, her chin wobbling slightly. Her hand tightens its hold on the desk next to her.

"Pull it up!" Amar says.

Jeanine shakes her head. "You think you can accomplish much by screaming demands ineloquently at persons of high rank? You are sadly perceiving if that is how you have been taught." She clears her throat. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Yes," Amar says, "just as you were planning to kill me."

Jeanine's eyes widen slightly. "You were the instructor from Dauntless, weren't you? How are you still alive?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Amar says, smiling. Withholding information from Erudite is considered a form of torture to them. Nothing is as satisfying as knowing a truth she doesn't know.

"Are you the only one who can access that computer?" Zoe asks calmly, remembering the object of the mission.

"I trust no one else with this valuable information," Jeanine says evenly, keeping her professional air.

Zoe shifts over to the laptop and opens it. "Password-protected."

"That means if she dies, no one will be able to access it," Amar says. The bullet slides into place. "Say goodbye, Jeanine."

Water from the sprinklers overhead washes away the blood of Jeanine Matthews as she drops to the ground, dead upon impact. The alarms overwhelmed the sound of the gunshot.

"Should we take the laptop?" Zoe wonders, getting soaked to the skin.

"Nah. That'll raise suspicions," Amar says. He pulls out the letter, all laminated against the water, and places it on top of Jeanine's laptop.

They blend in with the Erudite exiting the building. They bend their necks and keep their collars up; Zoe sneaks a look towards Dauntless as they desert the crowd and sees silence: no marching soldiers. No gunshots have been heard from Abnegation. She breathes easier as she and Amar sneak back to their car.

Mission accomplished.

The sun paints the sky a delicate orange as their long drive back to the Bureau winds down. The morning is sweet and calm.

**So: PROLOGUE. Solemnly swear Tris and much friends will appear next chapter. I just needed to set a scene, get the plot rolling. :)**

**Thanks for reading! God bless you!**


	2. Waking Up, Eating Breakfast, DEATH

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Presenting, ladies and gentlemen, Tris's point of view!**

I feel Christina's hand on my shoulder, her grip, before her voice hits my ears like a punch.

"Tris! Tris, wake up! C'mon! First day of being Dauntless and you're sleeping in?" I can practically feel her grin.

I sit up, feeling dazed and confused. Around my body are my usual black sheets; I'm still in the Dauntless transfer initiates' dormitory. I rub sleep out of my eyes and try to focus on Christina's bobbing dark head; then I remember. Yesterday, of shouts and screams in the cafeteria, of seeing my name above our heads as a Dauntless member; of breaking apart from Tobias's lips to see the shocked faces of Christina and Will.

Realization is sweet. I fling the covers off and bend down to get my shoes. Christina beside me is collecting her small collection of dresses, makeup, and other clothes she's gotten with her credits from the various shops in Dauntless. She is wide awake and excited as she says, "Today's the day we're getting our jobs! Gather your stuff, Tris!"

"What's the plan?" I say.

Will says from across from us, "We're bringing our things with us to breakfast, where we'll be notified as to what apartments we're being assigned. Then we'll settle in briefly and then take a tour of all the jobs." He bends back from making his bed; the corners are stretched even and tight, wrinkle-free. Precise. The Erudite love precision.

I see my mother's deft, small hands pull corners of her bed tight. My father fluffing up the pillows and placing them neatly at the head of their bed.

I look away and gather my things into a little black bag Christina threw at my face. The loops of the bag pull tight as I put my arms through them so the little bag hangs on my back.

The dormitory is full of initiates packing. I can count on my hand the number of initiates remaining from the number that first came. Those who left did so by either choice, force, suicide, or not meeting Dauntless standards.

Peter ignores me from his corner, his bed unmade as he stands to leave. He looks so vulnerable without his two cronies surrounding him. Obviously, the friends he made in Candor weren't brave enough to remain his friends in Dauntless.

All the better for me. Something deep inside, a dark, ravenous monster, grins at the sight of Peter being so abandoned. Nobody deserves to stand by his side; and he doesn't deserve them.

This will give fuel to Peter's vengeance-driven anger towards me. Squeezing past him into first place, getting first crack at the jobs, gives him reason to be bitter towards me. I'll have to watch for him even now, for my entire life here in Dauntless, for he knows how to abide his time.

Maybe I'll get a government job, like working for Eric, just to displease him more.

Christina and Will flank me as we walk through the dark halls. We pass a periodically placed blue light that gives us just enough to keep us from slamming into the rough edge of a wall.

"Tris, where did you go after the announcements yesterday? I seriously have so many questions for you, starting with, Why didn't you tell us?" Christina says, her voice ringing with cheerfulness. It's a good day to be cheerful.

"About what?" I say innocently.

"Well. maybe the kiss you so blatantly enjoyed with your instructor before the entire faction yesterday?" Will says calmly. One corner of his mouth is upturned in an amused smile. I catch it as we turn a corner and sun sprays out over us.

"I go and tell you about me and Will and yet you couldn't even tell us? I feel a little offended, Tris," Christina says before I can get in a word.

"It was because of obvious reasons—" I start to say.

"Ah, yes. Obvious reasons that neither Christina or I can figure out," Will says.

I stop, grinding my heels against the cold stone, and they stop just as abruptly, startled. "Because of favoritism, all right?" I say clearly, coldly. "If I had told either of you, you would have both attributed my high ranking with clear favoritism."

Will shakes his head. "No, we wouldn't have."

Christina folds her arms, a little annoyed with my sternness, a little amused by my childish anger. "We've seen you fight in the ring. We judged for ourselves whether or not the rankings after the fights were fair. And you spent the least amount of time in the second stage of initiation, and spent the least amount of time in the third where there were a billion people watching you. Any idiot like maybe _Peter_ might think that _somehow_ Four was able to fool hundreds of Dauntless into thinking your fear landscape wasn't as hard as we thought it was, but," she smirks, "come on. Sure, we're jealous that we can't get better times in our fear landscapes. But we know you do really well in your fear landscape, and there's nothing that Four did to prove that he rigged it."

Will and Christina sound so sure of themselves, so sincere, that I'm ashamed to think my friends would think that Four showed favoritism just so his tiny little girl from Abnegation wouldn't be factionless.

"Ah, she's blushing," Christina says. She grins and puts her arm around my shoulders and marches me and Will into the cafeteria. It's alive with energy, and it wakes me up like a powerful jolt of electricity. We get in line at the buffet. I pick up two muffins and a cup of coffee, an almost foreign drink to me.

"Why are you eyeing your coffee so weirdly?" Christina asks as we go find a table.

"We usually drank coffee in Ab—in my childhood," I say. Mentioning your old faction here now is practically treason.

"Coffee is really amazing, though. Add sugar to it, or else it'll be so bitter you'll be sorry," Christina says.

We take a bench near the table where there sits Tobias, Lauren, and Eric, amongst other notable Dauntless. I can't help sneaking a look over, my eyes trying to catch Tobias's. His head turns up, his dark eyes meeting mine. And he doesn't smile, but his eyes are warm, warm when they otherwise are cold.

"Look at those two, shamelessly flirting in public." Uriah's tray bangs against the table as he slides in next to me. He tsks at me, teasing in only the way the Dauntless do.

I turn back to our table and break apart my muffin. "I caught on being Dauntless pretty quick," I say.

Uriah laughs and Lynn and Marlene take seats across from him. "I'm excited for our housing assignments today, though Mom and Hector were really sad helping me pack my stuff," Marlene says, indicating a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She sips from a plastic cup and sighs.

This is a version of the faction-born initiates leaving home. I transferred from my home faction, completely leaving my previous life, and they're finding their own lives alongside their own faction. It goes to show that not everyone can remain in the same place for their entire lives. Everyone must move with change.

"I'm more interested in the jobs they're showing off," Lynn says, drinking black coffee. She watches me as I add a sugar packet from the bowls in the center of the table and asks, "Ranking first is the spot for prime jobs. You're getting first pick. Any idea what you want?"

I remember what Tobias said two days ago, back when the sky was darkening and the lights of Erudite glowed and he asked for my assessment of the situation. Being able to read situations—and therefore people—well is a skill I can wield to my advantage. Knowing that the leaders of Dauntless are also searching for anyone with Divergence is also a pro for my taking a job in inter-faction communication—the further I stay away from those trying to find and kill me, the better. "I was thinking of being a communication worker between the factions," I say, stirring my coffee.

"Really?" Lynn shakes her head. "The other factions are so boring and polite to associate with. They all think we're childish and reckless, too. Why associate with them?" She looks pointedly at me. "Who would want a job like that?"

"Me," I say. I take a swig of coffee and splutter. Sugar doesn't cancel out entirely the bitter darkness of the coffee; I'm overwhelmed.

Lynn laughs. "Slow down, Stiff, before you hurt yourself."

Seeing my habit of analyzing situations and then throwing myself headfirst into them, her caution should be taken as good advice. But the pride of Dauntless bites in me, and I scowl instead.

A yell is heard ring throughout the cafeteria. Uriah mutters something and Will drops his toast as runners dressed in thick black with guns strapped to their backs come running through the aisles and grind to a stop next to Eric. He looks far more irritated than usual as he stands up.

The messengers deliver an eager message, one I can't understand or hear correctly. Other conversations fade into the background as silence creeps in, swallowing us all in immense suspense. Everybody watches Eric, ready for his reaction and for the news to be delivered from ear to ear.

Eric's face visibly pales. He plays at one of the rings round his lips. Then he jumps onto the table and surveys the entire cafeteria. Even those walking on the unrailed paths above our heads stop to listen. "Our messengers have received news from the Erudite faction. It does not concern us"—his voice is cold and biting—"but it is worth knowing. The Erudite representative Jeanine Matthews was found with gunshot wounds to her head in her office this morning."

The atmosphere is still, tense, like a taut wire. I hear my heart pounding in my ears; immediately ideas of the motives behind her assassination fill my mind. Was it someone Divergent killing her before she killed them? Was it someone within her own building?

Was someone trying to stop her from releasing her soldiers?

Shouts, of course, fill the air. People stand up, demand more of an explanation. Who managed to get up through Erudite's headquarters and murder a scientist of her stature? Nobody saw this happen?

Eric's lips press together, his face shining with anger. Then he jumps down and follows the messengers. As a representative of Dauntless, he must be going to meet with the rest of the factions' leaders.

I feel relieved, but not in a satisfied way. My stomach hurts. I drop my muffin and sip from my coffee for something to do. Everyone around my table is uneasy. No one cares much about the head scientist of Erudite, but to hear about someone murdered? By a gun?

Who here has access to a gun?

Dauntless.

Who here wants her dead?

No one. The Dauntless hold nothing against Jeanine. Except. . .

Tobias walks over to our table in his Stiff, instructor stance, as if we're still in training. Maybe he's trying to force the memory of his vulnerability in kissing me in public yesterday out of everyone's minds.

Maybe he is trying too hard to act normal.

"Dauntless members," he says. We all stand. I feel sweat gathering in my palm, my heart beat faster. Did Tobias bring the war to an end before it even began? Was he trying to protect me? My mind skips from one thought to the other, but one thing pumps through me like blood through my veins: _I need to hear him say it. I need to hear him say he's innocent. I need to hear that he didn't murder Jeanine Matthews._

"We are going to tour the jobs after a brief view of your new apartments—"

"What about the news? About that Erudite representative?" Despite her hatred for Jeanine, Christina is still curious about the truth. My thoughts shift instantly to Christina going after Jeanine, but her hatred for Jeanine is only stemmed because of me. Christina . . . she would never go so far. Besides, she would have told me if she had bought a gun.

Tobias has access to guns. He's an instructor.

"We'll hear when Eric gets back." He meets my eyes. He looks at me with such admiration the sinking feeling continues.

I just need to hear him say those words.

"Welcome to your first day as Dauntless," he says. He actually _smiles_.

**In quoting one of my own characters, "Let's all just jump to conclusions and assume them and freak out about them." Jussssssssssst keeping the drama going. XD.**

**Thanks for reading! God bless you!**


	3. MUCH DRAMA OH NO

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. FourTris!Fighting ahead. :O**

My confidence in Tobias is shaken as we walk down a hall. Many other new Dauntless members join us, all those others who were Dauntless-born. His words from yesterday haunt me, like it was a warning I should have been heeding: _I want to be kind._ He still isn't, despite his touches and words to me. Still, remaining in him, against all others, is a rough visage. He still isn't kind.

He stops and claps his hands together, examining the group before him. Feet stop and we all watch him. We're at the start of the path that winds around in higher and higher circles all up to the glass ceiling.

"Up ahead are various Dauntless apartments. I'll be showing you to the most recently vacated." He doesn't say who lived there beforehand; no one can move out of Dauntless, unless they want to become factionless. Or, unless they're too old and the Dauntless leaders _ask_ them to '_leave_'. The feeling I had the first day in this faction returns; why did I come to live in such a cruel faction? Perhaps Abnegation would be easier. Abnegation would've had me forget any guilt, any unease, and any doubting of anyone else's motives.

I grit my teeth and follow the rest of the group up the path. I don't want to fall back to the rear of the pack. I'm the highest ranking initiate, and eyes are on me. Like they were on Tobias when he came to Dauntless, revealing himself as Four. The Divergent gain attention; some attention garnered is needed, and too much is unwanted. But in this crowd, I have to appear strong. They now expect this small, pale, blonde-haired ex-Stiff to be extraordinary.

And I will blow away their expectations.

We're stopped by a black door set into the stone. A number marks it apart from others. Tobias pulls out a key ring from a loop of his jeans and plugs it into the door. It beeps and he opens the door. Then he says, "Tris, this is your apartment." He tosses me the key, and I try to read his face. No sign of guilt or of hiding a dark secret is visible to me. His usual coldness around other people remains, but the corners of his face have softened, lost their tension. I realize that I did that to him; I've made him lower his guard, show more humanity, more vulnerability.

I ache and clasping my key against my chest, I enter my new apartment.

I flick a switch and the rest of the members walk up ahead the path. I enter through the doorway and look around; it's composed of three rooms; one can be interpreted as a living room, with a sofa and bookshelves holding nothing, especially not books. The other I see through an open doorway; a bedroom, with a single queen size bed. My ache deepens.

I peek into the other room, but it's just a toilet and shower and sink.

"This place needs sprucing up," I hear.

I turn back into the living room to see Tobias looking around, his hands in his pockets. Then he sees me and says, "I'll be right back with them. Told them I forgot to tell you something."

I fold my thin arms in front of my chest. "Yeah, is there something you wanted to tell me, Tobias?"

His face contorts into something confused. He folds his arms as well. "Why are you sounding so accusatory, Tris?"

I feel blood pumping through my cheeks. I ask in a cold, stern voice, avoiding all speculations and disillusions I could portray; I'm going to be Candor. "Did you kill Jeanine Matthews?"

A beat follows. Then his laugh is grating, harsh. "That might be the single most craziest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth, Tris," he says. Then his voice hardens. "Of course not. Of course I didn't kill Jeanine Matthews. Why on earth would I do that? You . . . you of all people should know that."

. . . that he's afraid of killing anyone. I saw it in his fear landscape. Of all the possible things in the world he could be afraid of, of raging fires and public humiliations and drowning and the dark, he is afraid of killing someone.

"You really thought I killed her? Why would I kill her?" Tobias wonders.

"She's going after the Divergent," I say. "She has an army."

Suddenly I clutch Tobias's arm, realization filling me. The injections into Dauntless yesterday. Jeanine's plans to use them as soldiers. Her plan has been foiled now. "Why was Eric so angry this morning?" I say, looking up into Tobias's face.

I see the thoughts linking together into a cohesive conclusion in his mind. "He was working with Jeanine," he says.

"The plan didn't happen," I say. "Unless the serum injections are going to be activated later."

"When?" Tobias asks. "I think it was supposed to happen today."

"We're not in simulations, though," I say. "I mean, the others. They're not."

"Someone killed Jeanine so the plan wouldn't happen," Tobias says. His fingers are clasping my arm, an effort to keep us grounded.

"Who else could've known Jeanine's plan?" I say.

"Eric didn't do it, or he wouldn't've looked so pissed this morning," Tobias says thoughtfully. His eyebrows knit together. "So Eric's out. Do you think any other Dauntless leader knew and stopped it?"

Another thought fills me. "What if the Dauntless leaders were all in on it and felt a prick of conscience?"

"There are too many options," Tobias says. "If we really want to find Jeanine's killer, we're going to have our own private investigation."

"Why not just tell them what we know already?" I ask.

"Tell who, Tris?" Tobias says quietly. "Who do you trust in Dauntless?"

"You," I say. "Christina, Will."

"They're not assigned investigators on cases, Tris," Tobias says. "They can't investigate her murder when they're barely Dauntless members. Especially when she's the leader of a different faction."

"Shouldn't we tell the Erudite our suspicions about Jeanine and her plan to enslave Dauntless?" I ask.

Tobias, I notice for the first time, looks tired. "Tris, who is going to believe you? I believe you completely, but they hate the Dauntless. They hate your first faction. Why would they believe anything negative spoken against their beloved, assassinated leader? Tris, your word just isn't valid to them."

Unfortunately, he's right. I'm a sixteen-year-old girl with information I can't explain I've got. The Erudite would never believe me.

"Fine," I say. "So we can try our own private investigation."

"Or. . ." Tobias says, his head tilted to face the ground. His fingers rub circles against my arm.

"Or what?" I ask.

"We could do nothing," he says.

"What?" I say. How is that even an option?

He sighs. "Tris, you've been in enough danger as it is. You've been targeted, attacked, and hurt. But all that can end. You can have a calm life."

"That's a lie. I'm Divergent," I say.

"My point is you don't have to dive headfirst into danger. You can opt out."

I'm silent for a moment. Then I say slowly, my eyes cast down, "Isn't that what the Dauntless do, though? Be brave? Be courageous?"

"Investigating her death isn't courageous. It's stupid," Tobias says, his tone taking on a bitter note. "And the Dauntless nowadays can barely discern the difference between the two."

He sees the tension growing in my face, and his hand slides down my cheek. His touch burns in a familiar, good way. I know his concerns are like my mother's; born from love, but ill-communicated.

"You don't need to protect me. I can take care of myself." Haven't I proved myself tough enough for him? What more qualifications would I have to show him to put his mind at ease? Because sometimes, even in his eyes, I am nothing but a little girl.

His hand withdraws. "You don't want me to show any concern for your well-being, Tris? What kind of a person would that make me if I didn't? Don't you understand how love works, Tris?" His words are harder, firmer, sterner. "I want you to withdraw because I _care_ about you. I don't want you to get _hurt_. Poking your nose where it shouldn't go results in injuries, Tris. I don't want you to get hurt; not when that option is avoidable." He stands back. A silence rings between us, both our bodies shifting up and down, breathing heavily.

A call from outside the door leads Tobias through the crack in one fluid, lithe movement, out of sight. The door's closing seems like a slam in my ears.

I want to react; part of me wants to scream, but that is stupid and childish. Instead I thrust my backpack from my shoulders and throws it across the room as hard as I can. My arm falls back and the bag hits the counter, slumping into a little heap. Not quite as satisfying as throwing a knife.

I want to go after Tobias, tell him how I am capable, how I am mature enough to discern whether or not a situation is dangerous and whether or not I should step into it or not. But part of me knows he's right. And part of me doesn't want to fight with him. After the past few weeks, after every moment we shared, every word, every emotion, every comfort and fight we fought for each other, I don't want to be on the opposite side, against him. I don't want tension or anger between us.

I end up sinking against the front of my new sofa. My knees bend inward and my arms wrap around them and I yearn to become small, which sometimes is my advantage and sometimes my weakness. Your greatest weakness can be your great strength, and vice versa.

Time passes. I'm waiting to be collected by Tobias after the rest of the new members have had time to check out and settle in a little into their new apartments. But in the meantime, I feel no great need to move. Once my job is secured, I'll worry about unpacking into this place and making it the home I never dwelled in in Abnegation. I instead wish I had taken back those words I had said to Tobias. Sure, I can analyze situations, but I, unfortunately, end up doing so after the fact. My temper flares too quickly; Abnegation kept my emotion-driven words pent up. But weeks in Dauntless has softened me, and my tongue is sharper than even I had anticipated.

_"Do you understand how love works, Tris?"_ he said.

Haven't I been taught about love? At least, the Abnegation kind? The Abnegation care for each other; they think of no one but those around them. I know about love. But, according to Tobias, I can't understand it if I can't identify it.

Finally times passes enough and the dark room, lit only by the bright blue light overhead, is echoed with a knock at the door.

I stand up, not wanting to be found in a pitiful state. I've cried no tears, so my face is fine. Not betraying just how flustered and angry I feel.

I open the door to see the members and Tobias. He's looking out over the Chasm. Christina says, "Come on. We're going to go check out a Dauntless leaders' meeting."

**Much drama developing, there is. Thanks for reading! God bless you!**


	4. The War Room

**_Soli Deo gloria_**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Much drama, much surpassing, we must do. XD.**

The war room situated in Dauntless has a vast, high ceiling, like that of a dome. The other ceilings established in this underground labyrinth are low, flat, and smooth. Here it's paneled with metal, with a light at the top. A long table stretches down the room, which is longer than it is wide. Blue lights dot the dark gray walls. The table isn't surrounded by chairs but members with their knuckles against the hard wood, their faces hard and unreadable, as they pay attention to him at the head of the table. Eric.

His greasy hair is tied back into a slick, black ponytail. He looks younger surrounded by such older, stoic peers, but he appears as serious as any of them, his back arched, his shoulders creased and defined, his face pulled into an angry grimace.

We walked in just as the members of the Dauntless government were gathering. We hang back, close enough to catch words but not near enough to cause a problem with the obviously perturbed council.

I stand like Tobias does; leaning against the wall, arms folded, legs crossed. Only his eyes fall only on the council, studying and understanding each and every word spoken and the body language displayed. But my eyes keep wandering from the sleek, long table to him. I want to believe that he doesn't think so ill of me, but I keep feeling the sharp ache of pride and my willpower stands and I force myself to look away from him. I can't concentrate on anything else when he's the only object of my eyes.

Christina sounded more interested in our not-so-subtle eavesdropping than I did, but now she pays closer attention to her nails. Max, a Dauntless who was there initiation day when we jumped off the roof, is greeting members rather than starting the meeting off quickly. Will listens attentively, though. This is a matter concerning the Erudite that they're discussing today, and his old faction being Erudite, he can only be curious as to how the Dauntless deal with a disturbance in a neighboring faction that includes a new leader for that faction.

He leans toward me, whispers in my ear, "Eric's nerves are shot."

I do scrutinize, see how veins are pumping, fast and furious, under Eric's skin. See his restrained, calculated rage. Christina taught Will and me a thing or two about interpreting body language as a translation of a person's true feelings. It's only too obvious that Eric's top is going to blow. And soon.

The real question is, Why is Eric so angry? Is it because his plan with Jeanine was foiled? Oh, I want to slam a fist into the table and point an accusing finger at Jeanine's business partner, but Tobias's words hold me back, because they ring with truth. The truth makes me hesitant, wary. Being aware of what my actions would consequence is a deterrent. I am wrestling with trusting my judgment of what I can say and do and with trusting Tobias with his assessment of me. I hate being wrong, which I am right now.

My palms ring with sweat. I pick at them with nail-less fingers, try to keep occupied. I itch for something to say, to do. So I ask Will in a low voice, "Now that their faction leader is gone, how will the Erudite go about choosing a new leader?"

"Jeanine Matthews was only chosen because she had the highest IQ of the Erudite. Since her assassination, the scientists will conduct a faction-wide IQ test, voluntary on everyone's part, no exceptions," Will says. "You know how age doesn't matter in Dauntless?"

I know that. _Eric _leads this group of people. I nod.

"To a certain extent, it doesn't either in Erudite. A five-year-old's IQ could be higher than a thirty-two-year-old man's, despite how improbable that sounds," Will says. "Our brains are run similarly, but they're all different; all develop at different rates."

"You're saying a child could be the leader of Erudite?" I wonder, shocked.

Will shakes his head, his shaggy hair tickling against his neck. "No. They have the greater potential to be smarter than those older, if they only had the knowledge! A five-year-old may comprehend cerebral activities that are far more creative than a math problem that needs known methods to solve, but a thirty-two-year-old would be more qualified to solve the math problem since he actually knows the methods to solve it."

"So the five-year-old has the potential to be far smarter when he's thirty-two than the other man?" I say slowly.

Will nods. "Some of our—their more intellectual thinkers, if they had the methods and means to have learned things, could be leaders." He says, "In the meantime, others who have more knowledge will have a bigger IQ score. It's all very subjective and pointed in Erudite."

"Obviously," I say. What I like about Erudite—and I rarely like anything about the faction my traitor of a brother defected to—is that it doesn't matter if anyone likes you or not—if you're smart enough to lead, you lead. At least you can trust someone who is knowledgeable. And also—anyone could turn out to be the leader, the sole representative, of Erudite. Here in Dauntless, a select number of higher-up Dauntless choose the one who represents us. That isn't fair. But there's nothing I can do about it. I just have to accept that our representative, Eric, the man who had us fight in the rings until one passed out or could barely stand, who cursed and had a temper tantrum upon losing the capture-the-flag game, who sided with Jeanine Matthews in making my entire new faction a faction of controlled robots, is the one chosen to talk in the name of the Dauntless.

But I can't accept him as that. Not when I know his personality. How can anyone want him as their leader?

Eric clears his throat. It sounds like the guttural growl of a rabid animal. "So the Erudite will come by with the results of their faction-wide issued IQ test to introduce me to the newest Erudite leader," he says. "In the meantime, we have been tasked by the Erudite to find and execute justice on the assassin who killed Jeanine Matthews."

Dauntless are the guards who protect us from all the danger lurking outside the coiled wire fence. Yet they couldn't protect one Erudite leader from being murdered in cold blood. So now the Erudite, not wanting to get their hands dirty, have handed the task of finding the murderer into the lap of Dauntless. Our job being security, it is understandable for this job to fall on Dauntless's shoulders, but still I wonder. Our faction is tasked with only one job that benefits the faction system (despite how important we think ourselves, our roles in the lives of the entire city are actually very minuscule)—and they couldn't even do that.

Provide protection within our city and around its borders. And Jeanine Matthews was murdered.

"Until tonight there is nothing else we can do," Eric says. Something in his eyes sends fear into the pit in my stomach. It looks like this subject isn't over for him, however how final his tone is before he turns to other matters, such as the injections. I perk my ears up for this, deciding to peel myself away from my inner thoughts to gather information. It's not the cogs and wheels turning in the plan to find Jeanine Matthews's murderer, but it's something of interest.

According to Max, every Dauntless has been injected with the serum, and each are accounted for. I think of the tiny detector beeping inside my skin and feel violated. I start to scratch at the injection spot, but my nails are barely nubs. Still, I scratch. My mind thinks irrationally that somehow I can pick it out from under my skin, like an irritating splinter.

The Dauntless council still continues speaking, oblivious to our presence. Their subject matter takes a turn for the boring, and my interest lessens and lessens each minute. With no more talk about Jeanine Matthews, the Erudite IQ test, the plan to find her murderer, or the injections, their talk turns repetitive against my ears.

Uriah's the only one with guts enough ask Tobias, "Let's go to the next job."

Tobias's eyes encircle the room, and he says, "This is a waste of time." He turns to face us, looking us all in the face except me. "Our next stop is the computer room, where I usually work when I'm not tasked with babysitting the newbies." We follow him like ducklings to their mother, single file, and exit through a door on the opposite of the room.

I am severely jostled as Christina is nearly trampled and pushed into the wall by a messenger. She shifts her feet and catches her breath and looks back into the war room, scowling. "What the hell was that?"

"Dauntless aren't known for their courtesy," Will says, grinning.

Our train stopped when Christina did, and now Tobias looks over his shoulder, eyes sharpening to the appearance of the messenger talking to Eric. Then, without a word or a single glance, he takes swift strides past us back into the war room.

"What's happening?" Christina says.

"Four?" Marlene says in a quick, whispering voice. Too quiet for him to hear, never mind coax him to come back.

I go back in after him, causing a mass return exodus as Uriah, Marlene, Lynn, Will, Christina, and the rest of the new members follow my example.

The messenger leans over the table, breathing heavily and yet explaining matters to Eric, who's changing colors faster than a sky at dusk. Tobias leans forward as well, despite how he refused a government job regarding interaction with other factions, and I go and stand by the foot of the table. A few glances are passed my way but then no ill word is spoken against my presence. Being first in training has weight with the Dauntless.

The messenger produces a device that fits in the palm of his hand. A picture appears on it and he shows it to Eric. Eric's jaw tightens like metal grinding against metal. Then he surveys the table. Any hint of softness, humor, or kindness vanishes from his face completely when he sees me and my determined, drawn, eager plain face.

He recovers his voice and holds up the device. "Ladies and gentlemen of the council, the Erudite have a message for us. Or, rather, they have received a message they are forwarding to each and every faction." He silently hands off the device to his right, Max, who examines the picture and swears. He hands it off to his right, and it makes its way to Tobias, who swallows quietly, and then past me.

It's a picture of a piece of foreign looking paper. Typed in words reminiscent of the Erudite, it reads 'Official Mandate for the Faction System of Chicago, Initiated by the Original Framers of the Faction System.' It reads a name under it. 'Edith Prior.' And my heart thumps and I pass on the device before anyone can see the change in my posture, my breathing.

Edith Prior? Who is she? Her name and mine are alike; she must be related to me. But how? Certainly not from my mother's side, whose name was Wright, so she must be from my father's side. Andrew Prior, from Erudite. Who is she, though? Who is she, this relative I've never heard of? An Original Framer of the Faction System? Was she a founding member of our society? And these words were typed on an envelope that's old and faded, stained yellow. What can these words mean that evoke such a reaction in the brave, stubborn Dauntless? I don't know what they mean, but I feel my bravery wearying. I swallow and straight, realizing that I must appear calm and collected, or else I will break into a fetal position and scream.

Eric's voice feels like a stone slipping down my throat. "All Dauntless—all factions have been called to gather in the center of the city." Obviously he doesn't have any problem with such a demand of him and his people. For the first time in his life, Eric is subjecting himself under someone else's orders.

And boy, does it put a wrench in his plans.

And a wrench in my stomach.

**Thanks for reading! God bless you!**


	5. PLOT TWIST

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. :)**

All protocol is thrown to the air. Even so, everyone in Dauntless marches obediently to the exits and out of the compound. It's eerie, the way they walk, like they have no choice in the matter. Part of me is scared that somehow the serum has been activated and they're all lost in a simulation around me. But Christina, by my side, says, "What do you think that letter says?" and I know I'm not lost in a sea of drones.

The look in Christina's eyes sends chills down my spine. Rarely anything scares Christina, but now confusion and anxiety rest on her face. "Why was your last name on the envelope?"

"I don't know," I say.

"It came from Erudite," Christina muses. We exit out into the sun, a pressing, demanding white light. Barely ten in the morning and it feels like a summer's noon sun. But the leaves are rustling about us; the change of seasons continues around us, as if nothing has changed. It's a reliable thought, to know that fall and winter and summer and spring still exist, when our world has spun on its head and landed upside down and discombobulated.

Of course the letter came from Erudite. It's information. All information is stored in computers and files in the archives found in the various rooms of the Erudite headquarters. That is common knowledge. I press my lips together and keep my feet moving ahead of me. If I miss one step to stop and try to comprehend the whirlwind our entire society has been caught in, I'll be trampled by the hurrying Dauntless. I won't let myself get overtaken or overwhelmed by my new faction. I will keep my head up, keep strong, despite how walls are crumbling around like broken buildings.

The only time the factions gather is on Choosing Day, and even then, not all attend. But this is a mass exodus. The roads are stopped up with trucks loaded with yellow and red clothing. City buses are bringing in students. I didn't realize that something so common as learning and education still existed. Not when fears are around the corner to either face or submerge you in agony, or when a death threat hangs over your head for merely having a strange ability that can't be controlled.

Life still goes on, despite the threats and challenges I've faced in the past few weeks. Walking out of Dauntless compound and facing the bright sun and the ruins and familiarity of my childhood home fills me with a different perspective; I am not so far away from my home as I thought I was. Then a feeling of excitement chills me to my bones, and I forget my troubles with Tobias, and Eric's anger, and Christina's musings, and my own worry, and my step picks up in speed.

I see the grey, steady step of the Abnegation moving closer and closer to me. They're headed towards the back, to provide ample room for the other factions to listen closer to the platform erected in the middle of the city. But I step on tiptoes and search diligently for a sign of my mother. Any wisp of dark hair, her gentle smile, her strong hands. Where is my mother?

I spy my father hurry forward from the mass of gray, followed immediately by other council members. My fists clench upon seeing the calm face of Marcus join in step with my father, discussing something with him. His head's bowed, his manner calm. The mask he wears is all too good.

I almost rush forward, grab Marcus by the collar, and sock him in the jaw. I want to watch him crumple like a paper doll into a heap on the ground. I want Tobias to see his crushed form and I want the entire city to see what a man Marcus Eaton is, in his truest form.

But I hold back. Tact is valuable, and if I want to get back at Marcus, it will be much sweeter if I do it following my own method, not his. A time will come when I will have the chance to ruin him, and when that chance comes, I will take it.

The council mounts the platform. It's a long, wooden stage that the Candor often use for public debates. Usually, growing up, walking past them, I would ignore them; they seemed to be arguing for the sake of arguing, which is the opposite of what the Abnegation stand for. But now I will listen as the letter is dissected by all the leaders of the city.

The council are joined by Jack Kang, the representative of Candor; Johanna Reyes, the representative of Amity; I remember seeing her on a day trip to Amity to pick apples from their orchards. A long, jagged scar runs down her face. Her hair is pulled back and her hands are gently clasped. Gentle and peaceful. A trusting image.

A few Erudite join those on the platform, shake hands with stiff limbs. Their faces are trying to conceal their stress.

Will comments, "Their IQ testing administration has been interrupted. Separating Erudite from new information is like giving the Dauntless a dare they can't do."

The stark differences in the mindsets of the different factions is fascinating. The Erudite part of me resonates, despite my better judgment, with this faction. My curiosity is often unquenchable, and I, too, want to know who will replace Jeanine Matthews and if, they too, will want to hunt down the flaws in the system.

Lastly, Eric joins those on the platform. Seats are taken in a long line down the platform, and my father approaches the podium that stands in the center. A hush passes over the crowd like a fog. I hold my breath. My father still looks the same as I left him; the tired face, slight graying hair, respectful eyes. I hunger to hear his voice. I am homesick and want to run into his arms and feel his restrained hug. But I can't. So I ball my hands into fists instead and keep my mouth shut.

Father raises a hand; everyone stops speaking. Our hearts beat as one, one thick, echoing thrum.

"Jeanine Matthews was found murdered in her office this morning at six-thirty-two," Father says, his voice reverberating to the very ends of the crowds. "It is thought that the fire sprinklers were set off as a diversion while the hefty deed was dealt." He waves a hand to the Erudite. "On behalf of the Abnegation, we extend our sympathies and sorrows for your loss."

The Abnegation feel bad for the woman who wrote lies and spread rumors across all the factions. How can my father find it in his heart to forgive such a woman who wanted to rub dirt all over his good name? I realize my father as a true Abnegation. Forgiving and forgetting. He embraces that philosophy.

His eyes scan the five groups. "In investigating her office for any clues, the Erudite found this letter atop Ms. Matthews's laptop." The letter is held up with a shaky but strong hand. Murmurs spread like a wildfire; murmurs of awe and confusion and anger.

"It is information that was previously locked up, by our ancestors, who first set up the faction system," Father says. "It was meant to be found by later generations and implemented. The information has now been found and brought forth. The time is come." He slips a letter opener under the slip and cuts a rough line down the envelope's spine. He brings out the letter, and the leaders of the factions lean forward. Jack Kang stands next to him. I know he is there to make sure that not one word is lost, but I am angry that he doubts that my father would deliver anything but the truth.

"'For the future citizens of Chicago, for the inhabitants of the five factions, Erudite, Candor, Abnegation, Dauntless, and Amity. The main purpose of the faction system is to restore a city's peace and order. Once this is achieved by generations of hard work and adherence to the five factions' manifestos, a change must be brought about. In all of the world's history, not one society has lasted through more than a few generations before falling to ruins and chaos by simple human nature. Now is the time to fix this. Instead of allowing the natural order to take place and seamlessly ruin your society, you can stop it. Instead of human nature naturally ruining ruled society, you are to break up the society with clear minds and clean hands, then being able to govern yourselves. Your society will break, but you will be able to govern yourselves with clear heads and peace.

"'Therefore, when several generations have passed and this information has been made known, this is the following order: the faction system is officially disbanded. Erudite, Candor, Abnegation, Dauntless, and Amity are no more; there are no more factions. All the origin factions are now as those who are factionless, those thrown away from society for having not fit in. Now they will fit in, for now all . . . all are factionless,'" Father says, and he wordlessly puts the paper on the podium. He steps back, like it'll explode in a second.

Jack Kang grabs and reads the paper. "'Anyone may take any job they wish that was previously unavailable to them. Anyone may marry who they wish. Anyone may interact with who they want to interact with. The virtues that we built our society on are still to be bound as honorable and be encouraged, but no one is any longer bound to the way of thinking connected to that virtue. Any can be honest, brave, peaceful, smart, or selfless. In fact, all can be, in time. Sincerely yours, Edith Prior.'"

_Prior. _That name. _My _name. It stings like a paintball. Why does Edith Prior keep popping up? Is it because Father saw her name that he couldn't continue reading? Almost like he was declaring these rules himself?

I'm not the only one shocked by this rules change. I actually laugh. No more Abnegation? No more selfless greetings and chores, grey clothing and bowed heads, quiet, respectable airs? No more Dauntless? No more laughs echoing in the Chasm, or injections in the fear landscape, or tattoo shops with their keen stings imprinting memories and reminders?

The Candor immediately start debating. The Erudite change color and exchange heated words, worried and hurried. There is no longer any need for this IQ test to continue. An Erudite leader is no longer needed.

That is, no Erudite leader is needed if we _heed _change. Do we listen to our ancestors, our founding fathers, and implement this rule? Have enough generations passed for this to be called into action?

Eric is shouting and pointing fingers at Jack Kang. I can heartily agree with the Erudite on this common trait the Dauntless carry: they're immature. Johanna is leaving and gathering her Amity to her and my father just stands there, startled and completely unsure of what to do.

To take away our factions? Take away our society, our community, our unity, and why? So it won't collapse on its own, a remnant of its former glory? They want us to destroy it ourselves so it will be destroyed, but not in ruins. We won't be faction members, but we can still live among each other in peace.

Suddenly I realize my good fortune. Nobody will be looking to kill a Divergent when the factions no longer matter. I only matter because the factions matter. Without them, I become . . . normal. Like everyone else.

Without them, we all become factionless. Just like all the homeless initiation drop-outs who clean our streets and live in the abandoned buildings of our city. Will we become like them? Scrounging and heating our hands in fires built in garbage cans?

Cries of frustration and confusion come from various members of the crowd. Is the letter even real? Who are the ancestors, to dictate what we, the future, should do with our lives?

"We've followed their rules so far; we've trusted them that much," someone says next to me.

Jack Kang is delivered with the letter away from the stage. Several Dauntless are quickly pointed out and assigned by a pale Eric to follow him as guards. Quick thinking, for a thick crowd seven people deep surround Kang, wanting to catch up the letter themselves. An Erudite car, sleek and silver, the top energy producing solar panels, pulls up. Kang is swallowed and hauled away.

Three factions protecting the letter instead of destroying it. To say that our world has been turned upside down is the understatement of my life.

I feel a hand touching my arm. Christina says, "This means I can visit my parents and sister. Faction loyalties, they no longer matter, Tris." Her smile is bright and wide. "I can see my family," and she disappears into the crowd. Will immediately runs after her, calling her name. He wants to stop her no doubt. An Erudite childhood has told him to not trust any information until it has been approved as truthful and trustful by many people. Like making a scientific law. From observations to hypothesis to theory to scientific law. He wants this information concluded as law before Christina throws her entire Dauntless future away by showing her loyalties changing.

But I don't care if this is law or not. My father just announced the rule change.

I see Tobias a few feet in front of me. Motionless, like a statue, in a sea of chaos filled with rocking bodies and mad shouting.

I run to him and grasp his hands in mine. They feel calloused, large, and firm in my own. "I'm going home," I say.

"To Dauntless?" he asks.

I realize my phrasing and bite my tongue in reprimand. "I'm going to Abnegation. I want to see my parents." I realize the weight lifted from my chest, the pounding of my heart. I am excited. The possibilities of seeing my parents after becoming a Dauntless member would've just been limited to inter-faction relations, such as food deliveries. I held no hope for seeing my mother's kind, unassuming face again, or my father's tired, but proud face. But now that hope is kindled in me. I feel the possibility becoming closer to hand with each second passing.

For once, Tobias doesn't say to not do this. To risk my being Dauntless in an Abnegation sector, despite how our world has fallen apart at its seams, on the very bases it was formed on. He instead kisses my forehead, and I remember our arguing this morning. I realize that this is forgiveness. He will forget our arguing, for it seems so petty, so harmless now. Whether or not I will now be able to investigate the murder of Jeanine Matthews is still a conversation I'm not looking forward to having with him, but it is pushed aside. He sees the here and now, and knows I will take advantage of what I have on hand.

"I'll look for you at the cafeteria for lunch," Tobias says.

I look up with a confused face. "Aren't you coming with me?"

He shakes his head. "I don't want to barge in on another family reunion."

"You already met my mom," I say. I laugh then, of all things. "You aren't afraid of my father, are you?"

"No. Rather, mine," he says clearly. His hands shake in mine.

He's afraid that he will see Marcus if he goes back to Abnegation. I nod in understanding and he pulls something out of the waistband of his pants. He weighs the gun in my hand and says, "This information will induce panic. That much is true. Keep this to protect yourself from riots." A spasm of pain crosses over his face. The fear of meeting his father holds him back from protecting me, his inherent instinct. Without the rules of the fear landscape available so he can escape a situation like that, he simply isn't subjecting himself to the fear. He gives me a tool for being strong and protecting myself. All he can do, in the end, is equip and leave me to battle for my own safety.

Once there is a sparse section of crowd before me, I run. The gun is held, uncocked, in my pale, white hand, like it's a part of me and not just an object of metal. My legs ache and I feel the freedom that Dauntless allowed me as I race around pairs and groups and fly across my home city without a thought in my head. All these facts will be achingly pored over later with Christina and Will, but for the moment I try not to think of anything but the fact that I will appear on my old, familial doorstep and be welcomed like the prodigal son. I won't stay in my childhood home, the house full of small but precious memories, but I long to see my parents.

I follow the same old familiar path Caleb and I used to take home from the stop. A few rights, two lefts, another right, and straight down and a right, and I'm standing in front of my childhood home. I knock respectfully on the door and look over my appearance. I cringe at my free blonde hair, my exposed tattoos, bare arms, and thick boots. At least there is no piercing to be found on my person. Otherwise my father would shut the door in my face.

A minute passes by and I'm worried that they're not home yet. That they're still lost in the multicolored crowds? What if someone is holding back my father, swarming around him like moths to a flame, like with Jack Kang, demanding answers?

What if they hear my knock but they know it's me and so don't want to open it? What if they are ignoring me because of my choice? Suddenly it's foolish of me to think that my parents will welcome me with open arms after I abandoned them on Choosing Day.

The door opens. My mother's eyes light up. Her lips open, as if to speak, but I hide myself against her shoulder before she says anything. My arms clutch her like a lifeline. I inhale soap, detergent, cleanliness. Cleanliness is close to Godliness, as Caleb used to say.

"Beatrice." I see my father and I stare at him, unsure what to say. My mother turns so we both face him. Her hands hold my arms, as if to convey to him more by actions than words.

I'm treading on broken glass. But I swallow, remember my faction. Remember my old faction. I bow my head in respect and say, "It's Tris, now, actually."

He nods in acceptance, but I know how it pains him for me to change the name he and Mom decided for me at birth. What more, he must think, will I do to push myself farther and farther away from them?

"Tris," Mom says, holding me at arm's length. Her eyes assess me and see no visual damage. "Did anybody see you leave your faction?"

"Everyone was running around; nobody saw me," I say.

"That's good," Mom says.

Her hand presses against my shoulder. I cover hers in mine. "You were Dauntless," I say, as a fact.

"I was," she says. "And your father was Erudite."

I bite back a weak, wobbly smile. "I became Dauntless yesterday. Top of the ranks." Of all the emotions I could feel at this moment, my heart burns with bitterness. So much paid in blood and sweat, in bruised bones and kicked sides, in waking up in cold sweats, with a pounding heart, to biting my nails down to non-existence. All to join a faction that doesn't even exist anymore.

I almost laugh.

Mom smooths a hand down my pale, blonde hair. "I'm proud of you." She smiles.

Father waves a hand towards the plain, grey sofa. "Please, won't you sit, Tris." He says to Mom, "I'll make a pot of tea." We always used to have tea when guests came. Plain, rarely with sweetener. My father feels the gravity of the situation hanging like a shadowing cloud over our city, and even he, so deeply an engraved Abnegation, needs a comfort, no matter how selfish it is. I wish I could be part of that comfort, but that would be selfish, far too selfish, of _me_, to ask him to love me after what I did. After trying to separate me from him, how can I ask back for what I destroyed? That is selfish. That is not love.

I sit down on the edge of the sofa. Mom sits across in a rocking chair. She used to rock us to sleep when we were little, her hand stroking through Caleb's dark hair and my blonde. She'd kiss our foreheads and whisper how much she loved us. I realize now, reflecting back on the memories of old, that she was loving us as much as she could then, as she realized that we would never stay in boring, sensible Abnegation for long. My heart squeezes and I ache once again.

"I'm glad you did well in the rankings," Mom says, her voice dropping to a whisper. I lean closer. "Was there any suspicion over how you made so high?"

I shake my head. "No." Was that only yesterday? With scientists laughing at my fear landscape and getting injected with an awful serum and kissing Tobias in a public setting? Even so, those are scary thoughts. All within twenty-four hours, and nothing like that ever happened in sixteen years in Abnegation. When I joined Dauntless, I joined mayhem and freedom.

A weak pump of steam whistles through the air. My father's feet pad quietly against our small kitchen. Quiet, ordinary, meant to hide in the background, not draw attention to himself. But I see him. I see my father. I see my father for who he is. Confused and angered by this twist in our lives, cordial but cold at my homecoming, and ever serving. He became what his faction wanted him to be. I wish I'd inherited that much determination.

"Tris." Mom's terse. "Did Jeanine Matthews seek you out? Did she know?"

"I am sure she did," I say.

Mom leans back, her knuckles against her pale lips. I notice for the first time the perturbed look in her eyes, the searching they conduct. Her feet tap against the floor, her thoughts anywhere but here.

My bad habits are remembering abnormalities about my body, such as my short nails and my sweaty palms, and now I remember the puckered mark where Eric injected me with an evil plan. I scratch at it and say in a low voice, "I have something I want to discuss. It's urgent." I must tell my parents about Jeanine Matthew's plan; they're still respected authority figures; if not among the Erudite, at least among the other four factions. They have to be able to do something.

Father comes in with three mugs. I clasp the heat close but don't sip as he sits. He sits politely near me, like I'm a guest, and not his flesh-and-blood daughter.

"We all have questions," Mom says.

"I don't know if I have lots of answers," I say, warning. I open my mouth to tell them what Tobias and I have pieced together about Jeanine's plan, but then a hurried knock peals against the door.

It opens without a second to waste.

My brother, Caleb, drained of color, his hair darker than ever, isn't wearing his stupid, useless glasses.

He holds up a piece of paper. It's full of data I can't understand.

"I researched the serum," he says to Mom, his voice shaking.

**Thanks for reading! God bless!**


	6. Much Family Talk

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent.**

My mother stands up immediately and hugs Caleb, like the information he offers doesn't even matter. His eyes pop wide open, but a hesitant hand pats her shoulder.

Then she pulls back, a hand cupping his cheek. "Caleb? How are you? You're so ruffled."

"Nice rule change," he mutters. He clears his throat and offers the paper. "Here. Just what you wanted."

"Sit down. I'll get you a cup of tea," Mom says, smiling. Then she says tensely at me, searching out the window, "Tris, close the shades. No one must see this." She hurries into the kitchen, leaving Caleb like a statue. Startled. To be welcomed home like that? He hadn't expected that. He and I, both transfers to other factions whose virtues we both understood and felt truer in our bones than of those we knew growing up, did not fully expect the Abnegation forgiveness to be imparted on us. We deserted them, and Mom welcomes us back with open arms.

My mind blurs as I jump up and pull the shades down across the windows. I feel like we're conspiring, but against who? Betraying something, but who?

The serum. The serum injected into my arm? Caleb, Erudite, Jeanine. Did he find plans of Jeanine's?

Father stares at Caleb. Caleb clasps his hands together in front of him and bows his head in respect to him. "Father."

"Caleb," he says.

"Sir," Caleb acknowledges.

"How are you?" Inquiry of Caleb's health. Abnegation; always leaning towards others.

"Tired," Caleb says with that smear of Erudite smirk on his face. "I haven't slept in twenty-four hours. Life has taken a certain change for the worst." He ends this with a haunted voice, empty eyes. He indicates the paper he holds. "I found this. I quit Erudite initiation. I was coming to see you when a Dauntless came and informed me of the curfew. So I kept pacing in an alley all night, not wanting to stay in a factionless building but not being able to walk freely along the streets. Absurd, really. The Dauntless acting superior because they can walk around with guns and order people around to abide by rules that they don't even endorse themselves—"

I clear my throat.

Caleb sees me for the first time like I'm a ghost. "Beatrice," he says, surprised.

"Tris," I say evenly, keeping the bite out of my voice.

He swallows. "Tris," he says firmly.

"You quit Erudite initiation?" I ask, surprised. I don't feel sorry for my brother, but I'm shocked by his decision. Quitting initiation, he knew, would end him up as factionless. Perhaps he came to ask for forgiveness back into Abnegation. Or maybe he knew that that wouldn't be possible but came to spread the learning of knowledge anyway, to then face the consequences of his actions later.

The rules change leaves that option as a what if?

I hate to say this of my cowardly brother, but that was a brave action he took. I'm proud of him for quitting a faction the information he found told to be corrupt. There is hope for him yet.

"I did. As it turns out, they weren't quite as curious and knowledge-seeking as I'd thought," Caleb says. Quietly, "Each faction's virtues have slowly been becoming corrupted. The rule change makes sense. To take matters into our own hands before things get out of control."

Caleb makes a good point. Dauntless, trading bravery and courage for stupidity and pride. The Erudite gathering information to hold power over the ignorant factions. Even Abnegation has been losing initiates because their virtue is the hardest: to forget one's self is impossible. Not when you're in possession of your body and constantly aware of your actions to yourself and to other people. To forget yourself is to not live.

"Is that how you feel, Caleb?" Father asks, his hands clasping the armrests.

Caleb says, "Yes," and takes a seat next to me. We look ahead, pretend that the other one doesn't exist. After my visit to Erudite, it's no surprise we have no words to say to each other, despite how much there is to discuss. Ordinarily Caleb would pick one thought and pull it apart to its barest fragments and examine each one. I would question each fragment and then we'd each take parts of the thoughts we in particular wanted to act on.

But a grave silence hangs between us. We're both struck.

Mom comes and hands Caleb his cup of tea. He takes a sip, saying, "Keeping hydrated keeps the mind focused." Then he remembers who he is talking in front of and puts down the tea.

Mom sits like me: on the edge of the seat, her hands clasped in front of her, ready to jump up at any moment. "Let's see the paper, Caleb."

He hands it to her and explains: "After Tris came and told me, I decided that my essay could be put off a day or two more. I didn't care about the deadline, despite how I've been trying as hard as I can to be above par in initiation. The thought struck me as odd, and so I went on one of Erudite's computers and began researching the serum as Mom asked me."

Father glances side-wise at Mom. "How'd you communicate that to Caleb, Natalie?"

"I asked Tris to ask him to when I visited her on Visiting Day," Mom says patiently. Then her voice grows urgent. "Continue, Caleb."

He begins to say faster, "I found out that Jeanine was developing long-distance transmitters for the serum. That led to information about Dauntless and Erudite, and I put two and two together. To think that I was working to earn her approval all this time, when she was going to make you a murderer." He stares at me with scared eyes.

Mom stands up and paces the floor, hands clasped behind her back. Her lips press together in concentrated thought, like they did when Father brought up a conflicting political matter at the dinner table. "I was afraid of this," she says.

Father stares at her, confounded. "You knew this would happen, Natalie?"

Two of her fingers pull back a blind panel. "Not this specifically, but that the Erudite would have something up their sleeves. Their false reports, inquiries into years of old initiate information, and Tris's serum injection." My fingers stop scratching at the swollen puncture and I stare at my mother. Intellect fills her features. She is adept to collecting information, deducing from small hints and subtleties.

Caleb grabs my arm and examines the skin surrounding the injection. "What is this?" he asks, horrified.

"Yesterday all the Dauntless were injected with a serum. Eric meant it that everyone had to get one," I say, stressing how trying to avoid the injection would result in deep questioning.

"The serum; did he say for what purpose?" Caleb asks hurriedly.

I wrench my arm away. "Of course not."

"His and the Erudite intent was malign," Mom says. "Caleb, quick, what were the plans?"

"The plans were for Erudite to attack Abnegation using Dauntless. The Dauntless, injected with serum, would be in a simulation. They wouldn't know that they were doing wrong because they'll have thought they were doing right," Caleb says.

Father gravely nods his head. All four of us know the emotions and twists of reality in a simulation. Everything can make sense when they otherwise wouldn't. What a thing for the Erudite to invent: an invention made to disorient people and yet aid them in picking choices that change their entire lives. Those, like the Erudite, who hold power use it to lord over those who haven't any, manipulating them to do what they want them to do. Suddenly I'm sick to my stomach. The test is a standard procedure in the faction system; what would the faction system do without it? But now I'm glad it's being done away with. Suddenly I'm filled with fierce anger against the Erudite because they're a faction. Our ancestors set up this system so a particular faction, the faction filled with cunning minds, could use this knowledge to hold power over those who don't have it. I'm glad it's done away with. Because the test never helped me, and it never helped anyone.

"So the Dauntless leader was with Erudite in plans for attacking Abnegation?" My father's voice is too calm.

"I don't know how deeply the plans ran with Erudite. It wouldn't be logical for so many to know; too many variables. I can, however, make the logical conclusion that Jeanine Matthews was in on the plan. Therefore, without Jeanine Matthews, the plan hasn't been carried out," Caleb says, with the excitement of delivering such news.

"Yet," I say. What _is_ stopping Eric from keeping the train on the tracks? "What if Eric keeps with the plan anyway? Not all the partners in the game are murdered. He can still carry out the plan."

"Where is Eric now?" Mom asks.

My father cuts her off before a word more can be said. "What if another member in the conspirators, perhaps some other Erudite scientist, is going to initiate the plan? Eric isn't the only other option as a person to set off the plan, is he?"

The only logical step, therefore, is to protect the device that sets off the transmitters currently embedded in the bodies of thousands of Dauntless. "We need to find her computer," I say. Jeanine Matthews wasn't an idiot; she put the most important information in her own personal keep; of that, I am certain.

"We'll never be able to get into Erudite headquarters. They're guarded by motivated Erudite," Caleb says. "So what if the factions are disbanded? The Erudite will still claim it as their property and won't let another faction member enter onto the premises." It goes without saying that Caleb is no help to us here; not when he blatantly quit their initiation, a sacrifice not quite selfish.

Sneaking into Erudite headquarters, at this point, isn't an option. Under normal circumstances, I could easily rush headfirst into such a situation, but the world we woke up to isn't the world we're living in now. The frantic Erudite, who last night suffered a fake fire alarm, are now burdened under stopping IQ testing and trying to figure out the murderer behind their former leader while trying to find a logical explanation as to how the letter came into existence. Normally chaos is easy to sneak into; act as the frantic and you can do anything. But I don't doubt the doubled security they have up. Petrified Erudite safeguarding their building while information runs rampant, spreading into rumors and pieces? They will allow no one in; they will protect each exit, each window, each vent. They will protect that building with their lives, for above all else, our lives owe loyalty to our factions, even if our factions no longer exist.

"Perhaps we can't get in on our own," Father says. "Then neither can Eric."

Caleb's face lights up with relief. "That's true. Doesn't matter if he was a former Erudite, which he was. He's Dauntless; they won't let him in." He grins in relief. I feel like punching him. Now is not the time to be thankful for small favors.

"What if one of the Erudite scientists sets it off?" Father says. "Say Jeanine has the program on her own computer and they know the password."

"Makes sense," Caleb says.

"I highly doubt she would give the password to that to anyone besides herself," I point out.

My mom's pacing is a constant in front of us. She'll wear a hole in the spare carpet under the coffee table. But none of us reprimands her.

"So it is logical to believe that no one will be able to access the program if it is only safely hidden on Jeanine's computer?" Mom says quietly, her eyes on the floor.

Caleb nods, then says loudly, "Indeed. We're safe, for now."

A moment of silence passes, the weight of the situation pulling like a shadow of dread on all of us. I tap my feet against the wooden floor. My hands clasp in front of me as I think. So if no one is going to be able to access the program, is there anything to fear? Is that put away, finally, never to be remembered? No. I know Eric. Brutal, hard, pressing. He will get the job done no matter what. He and I are alike in that way: we will use the end to justify the means. I know that Eric will try to break into that building and set off the Dauntless. I know that Abnegation remains fully unprotected. So we have to get to the computer before he does. We need to destroy it; destroy the culmination of Jeanine Matthews's life work.

I will do it with pleasure. To destroy the data that would destroy my home-faction, pleasure the woman who discredited my father, who was out to murder me because I am uncontrollable: that is a prize worth fighting for.

"What do we do with this information?" Caleb wants to find an application for these hard-earned facts. Erudite. Wants to use knowledge to apply and help society. What society do we have, though?

"We have to bring Eric to justice," Mom says.

"On what grounds?" I say. To use a Candor term, "We have circumstantial evidence."

"Perhaps we could find security footage putting him with Jeanine talking over the plans with her computer," Mom says.

"Natalie." Father's hand touches Mom's, which are clasped behind her back. "We can't do that. We can't even step foot into Erudite headquarters."

"But it's no longer Erudite," she reasons. "It belongs to all the factionless."

We three wince. Blue and black and grey, for the first time ever, are worn in this house. To know that they no longer mean anything is a blessing and a curse.

Father stands up. "Natalie. There is chaos reigning in the streets. There is no possible way to be able to access that security footage. We have no case against Eric except a theory, and even that is weak."

"We have to do something, Andrew," Mom says firmly.

"We can present the information we've gathered to the Abnegation council," Andrew says. "Surely the council still holds power." I hope for Father's sake it does. His life's work has been poured into his family and into serving his faction by leading it. With his family dismantled by the factions, all he had left was his job. His prodigal children have returned home, yes, but we're not staying here. We've left the nest. So his job is all he has. If it is even still there.

I stand up. "Only a few of the Abnegation council members can be trusted," I say.

Father and Mom stare at me, bewildered.

"Surely you don't believe those rumors Jeanine spread?" Father says.

Caleb's full lips spread into a line. "Jeanine was manipulative and conniving. Tris, really—"

I glare at Caleb, "No! I don't believe a single word she said against any council member, except for one report. The one about Marcus Eaton."

My father steps away to the dining room table, where a stack of important looking papers stands. He ruffles through them and pulls one out and holds it up. "The one saying that Marcus Eaton abused his son? The one who transferred to Dauntless?" he asks, uncertain.

I nod, affirmative.

Caleb views me curiously. "How do you know this, Tris?"

I feel a savage blush color my cheeks and determine to ignore them. "Because that transfer told me it was true," I say. Half-truths and concealment of the full situation. I'm not Candor.

"Four," Mom says knowingly.

I nod.

Father is confused. "Who is Four?" he wonders.

"Tobias Eaton," Mom says.

"My instructor through initiation," I say.

"Why does Mom know who he is?" Caleb says. "Why do you know his first name?"

"I have a very good memory of all the things, good and bad, that have happened in Abnegation over the years. The last time I saw that boy in public was when I administered tests on his test day. He was not one of mine, being from Abnegation, but I remember watching him. Marcus never allowed him to go to any social events. Andrew," Natalie says, "ask Marcus about this. Ask him if it's true."

Father looks pained. His best friend, an abuser of his own son? He sits down, the dining room chair grinding under his weight, and he tosses the report back onto the table. "I chose to not believe such lies," he says, "because of what else Jeanine wrote. But now both you, Natalie, and Tris affirm it as truth." He shakes his head. "He wears a mask while governing a body and yet cannot even uphold our most prized virtues."

I know the betrayal he feels. I felt it when I detected the scent of wheatgrass wrapped around one of my attackers. To know that one of your friends was against you, doing what they wanted to to gain ahead no matter what moral rules they broke, is heartbreaking. Angering. Confusing. Clear.

Father sits up and says, "I'll gather up the rest of the Abnegation council members—including Marcus. However, we will hold a trial for his crimes before we discuss this."

What weight will such a trial hold if Marcus claims that the Abnegation council cannot try him when technically no such council now exists? But I bite my tongue. It's a step forward towards peace. Even I can see that.

A knock on the door disrupts us.

Father opens it. "Hello," he says. He steps aside and two Erudite scientists enter. One is a young man about Tobias's age with a clean cut chin, floppy brown hair, and glasses. A string reclines on his collarbone; the pendant holding it down is lost in a blue shirt. The other scientist is a shorter, dark-skinned woman, maybe mid-twenties.

The young man offers his hand. "Matthew, Mr. Prior," he says.

"Juanita, but I will gladly go by Nita," the younger woman says. They both bow their head in respect. They must be ambassadors from Erudite if they know the customs of an opposing faction. Nita clutches her clipboard near her, like she has secrets written on it. "We've been trusted with the delivery of Mr. Andrew Prior to the Erudite headquarters."

Caleb's mouth drops open in astonishment; I squint my eyes, wonder why they need him. "Why?"

"He is a mouthpiece that people trust. Whatever news we gather about the new information, we want it announced to the populace via Mr. Prior. I assure you, Mr. Prior, that you will be perfectly safe." Nita seems too sure of herself.

"Of course," Father says. He squeezes Mom's hand and she lets him go with the two Erudite.

"How do we know that they aren't taking him to some dark alley to beat him to death?" I say, seething. Trusting two Erudite with one Abnegation isn't the wisest thing to do when you weigh and compare the pros and cons. "It's not like Erudite are best friends with my father."

"Because Andrew is going inside and can therefore communicate information to us," Mom says calmly, stopping her pacing. Then she says, "I am going to go ahead and call the Abnegation meeting immediately. Caleb, I want you to follow me and be at my side to do anything at any time for me. Tris, I want you to gather a team of Dauntless. We're going to infiltrate the Erudite headquarters."

"What? I thought we just established that there is not any way to get in Erudite headquarters undetected," Caleb protests.

My hand's already on the doorknob. After so much discussion back and forth, this is a straight forward solution that I can run with. "Believe me, the Dauntless don't go undetected. We make grand entrances." I exit and plow through the endless rows of grey housing, making my way to the decrepit part of the city which is now my home: Dauntless.

I can already see it all through in my mind. Christina and Will will jump aboard immediately. Uriah's always up for something. Lynn and Marlene are tied into the deal if Uriah joins; they're an inseparable threesome. Tobias, if he agrees to trust my parents' judgment. Then I stumble, remembering what I just did. I betrayed the confidence he held in me to my family. He will understand my motives, keeping them from working with the likes of Marcus Eaton, but I can already feel the pain I will feel when I watch his face fall, his eyes darken, and his jaw tighten. I have betrayed his worst secret that he revealed to only _me_.

But we're walking along the edge of a narrow fence. Anything we can do to further our cause for peace between the mounting factions counts for far more. I will explain and hopefully he will understand. I hope so.

To get to Dauntless, you have to pass through the Erudite part of the city. It's a place full of buildings with broken windows; they were once old school buildings, libraries, offices. Now nothing more than dwelling places for the factionless. I still can't help but separate them who failed to fit in with the factions from us. We will NEVER become like them. To be factionless is a curse worse than death. We will be without factions, but we will not become _them._

I cross a street, the one in front of the Erudite headquarters. Most of the roads are deserted. Everyone has drifted back to their homes, questions in their mouths and uncertainty in their bodies. A large protesting crowd surrounds the front of the Erudite headquarters, but I ignore it. I will storm that building, but when I have more people on my side. I pay attention to this, on how to convince Tobias of our quickly-formulated plan, when I see a black-clothed figure hurry in front of me to Erudite headquarters: greasy dark hair, rings through the face. I stumble and then hide behind the corner of a building as I watch Eric, his body language ringing with the stiffness of anger, approach the building with boldness.

My feet instantly carry me not to Dauntless, but on the trail of Eric. I keep my footing light, a distance from him. He slips in and I walk at a calm pace to not raise suspicions, but I wish I could walk as fast as my heartbeat. I don't have a gun on me, but I can make way the best I can if it comes down to fighting. Though, I know Eric has that over me. To think that I could beat him in a fight is the funniest thing I've ever heard; but I have determination and stubbornness. What does Eric have against _that_?

I slip in easily, just as Eric did, like butter. Nobody's actually watching who slips through the crack around the door. It's laughable, after all our worries. Slipping through a crowd is easier than I thought before.

Erudite headquarters looks much like it did just a few days ago. The desks are covered with pieces of paper several blue-clothed figures are taking away to be stacked. I can only guess those to be the IQ tests that are no longer valid.

I stop in front of the portrait of Jeanine Matthews. I smile wickedly at her cool, calm face, and then skirt around a corner to see Eric run up a pair of stairs. No Erudite guards are here to confront me. Like last time, when I had to raise a commotion just to get one of them to notice me.

I follow him, pausing in a stairwell to see if he's noticed me. But Eric ignores me; he walks instead into a room and I sneak in, barely breathing as I watch. It's a laboratory. A long metal table stands in the middle, the center of attention. Pairs of scientists in long white coats and black glasses turn their attention from the table to Eric. But I notice the previous object of their attention: lying on the table, covered by a single white sheet, is the long, pale body of Jeanine Matthews. Every feature slackened, drained of color, stiff and grayish. My greatest aggressor, dead before me.

I'm recaptured as Eric's voice rises: "I demand to see them. We have an appointment."

A blonde-haired scientist with a long, thin face poises her finger on her pen, ready to write on her clipboard. "What are their names again, sir?"

Eric lists them and I memorize them. Tanner. Greg. Lydia. Alicia. Darren. Patrick. The scientists he wants to speak with: they must be with him on the simulation. The scientists he names are those who are traitors, those who wanted to enslave another faction and use them as murder weapons.

"They are busy preparing the funeral and memorial pride for our leader," the blonde-haired scientist says.

"Where are they?" Eric asks.

"They're not to be disturbed, sir," the scientist answers.

Eric grits his teeth. "That's not a good enough answer."

"Sir, if you turn to aggression, we will escort you off the premises," the scientist says calmly.

I expect the scientists to be forced to call for Erudite guards, but Eric steps back, hands up. "Fine. I'll come back later." He turns on his heel and I edge out, darting around a corner. But when I breathe and straighten against the wall, I feel deep talons digging into my arms, bringing blood. I grit my teeth to keep the scream from releasing and Eric's breath is hot against my ear. "Think you're pretty sneaky, aren't you, Stiff? Think you know things? Think that just because Jeanine is dead I won't find you and kill you?" He chuckles. The barrel of a gun presses against my jaw. "Yeah, you're Divergent. I know what you are."

His words are lost in my ear. I estimate more than know where his limbs are. I land a foot flat against his groin and pull my sneaker away, sickened by the imprint I still feel. He grits his teeth to hide a howl and I duck and then grapple for his hand, pointing it higher and higher towards the ceiling. It itches up and up, his arms pressing against my determined, tiny hands, and sweat pops up on my neck. I have to move. Quickly. If I don't get my hands on that gun, he will lose no time lording it over me.

A bullet bursts through the tile overhead and plaster crumbles down. It scatters into my eye and Eric uses one hand to thrust me down. I cough as plaster rains down on me and I fight against his hand, but his gun kisses the top of my head. His hand presses down into one huge, imprinting bruise.

I can feel his grin.

"You must be Divergent," he says calmly.

"You must still be Erudite," I say. I smile when he steps on my hand.

My first try at gaining the gun was a risk. It didn't pay off.

Trying again is the only option.

I hear a bullet click into place. Seconds from shooting.

"Drop your gun." Several yards away, stubble-laced and straight-backed, his arms held steadily in front of him, both eyes open, his feet slightly apart.

Tobias. His voice. His gun.

**BABABABABABABA DRAMATIC CLIFFHANGER. Thank you, to all who are reading this, and (shall Tris or Tobias or Eric die? What about that gunshot into the ceiling? So many questions. So many little unanswered questions) :) God bless!**


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